Red Iron Symphony
by Pyralis Anacreon
Summary: Part Two of the Mortal Conversion series, must read Black Gold Legacy first. In California the Virals struggle to survive with FBI agent Desmond Ratheson tracking their every move, but the greatest threat they face may come from within. AU, complete.
1. Fox in the Garden

Red Iron Symphony

* * *

><p>Part Two of the Mortal Conversion series, must read Black Gold Legacy first. In California the Virals struggle to survive with FBI agent Desmond Ratheson tracking their every move, but the greatest threat they face may come from within.<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter One: Fox in the Garden<p>

* * *

><p><strong>TWO WEEKS AGO - THE PACK<strong>

"So, Tory the wonder-wolf ran the whole way, Ben hitched rides, and I took the bus. How'd you get to sunny California, Shelton?" Hi asks.

Shelton grins. He's glad Ben kicked him out of the driver's seat; he wouldn't have been able to look at all of them without crashing the car if he were still behind the wheel. "I walked. My dad got a job in southern California."

"I can't believe we all made it." Ben says, all his relief evident in those few words.

"Woo!" Hi cheers, throwing his arms up and knocking them against the low roof of the back seat. "Vi_rals_! Vi_rals!_"

They laugh, and it feels like the first time in years.

"But it wasn't easy as all that," Tory says when they've all calmed down a little. She goes sober instantly, thinking about the things they've had to do.

"I got captured." Hi murmurs, eyes downcast as he remembers his brief stint in a cell.

"We hurt some people," Ben says, staring hard at the road.

"I almost killed a man." Tory whispers into the pensive silence.

* * *

><p><strong>TWO WEEKS AGO - DESMOND<strong>

"I blame that _girl_, Victoria. Hiram was a good boy before he met her." Helena Stolowitski says, leaning forward to stress her point. "He'd never have done any of this if it weren't for her egging him on."

"That's not really fair," Mark Stolowitski says. "Hiram has to take some responsibility for this as well."

"I just don't understand where I went wrong..." Helena says, eyes filling with tears again.

"Just tell me what happened," Desmond says.

"There were cameras, weren't there? Get the footage off of them. I can't bear to go through it again."

"It's easier to hear your side of the story."

"We were down in the lobby, filling out paperwork with one of the officers and waiting for another to bring Hiram down to us." Hiram's father begins. "And then we saw Hi and his two friends, Victoria and Ben, trying to leave. We tried to get Hi to come with us, but he refused. The cop, Officer Kay, pulled out a gun and tried to stop them. Victoria called her dog's name and it attacked Kay. They escaped."

"Nothing else? Do you remember anything else? Did they say where they were going? Mention anything?"

"A car pulled up out front." Helena says suddenly. "I don't know who was driving, but they got in fast enough."

"What color? What make?"

"Silver, I think. I don't know cars well enough to say what kind, but it looked old. It wasn't all smooth curves like today's cars, you know?"

Desmond nods, and his cell phone rings. "Excuse me for a moment." He stands, steps away from the interview table and turns his back to them. "Ratheson."

"Boss wants to know how you're doing with those cross-country runaways. I told 'im not to worry, they're teenagers and you're good at your job."

"I'm flattered, but you might regret that. These kids are smarter than you give them credit for. While I've got you, I need you to look at stolen cars in this area, older models, possibly silver."

"Running, but it might take a while - ah! Somebody up there likes you today. Not stolen in the area, but found there. '86 Chevy, silver. Plates match a car reported stolen in California two days ago. Looks like they ditched it first chance."

Desmond swore. "Okay, check bus stations, trains, everywhere. I want to know how they're traveling and where they're going."

"On it."

* * *

><p><strong>SEVEN WEEKS AGO - SHELTON<strong>

He hates this. He hates feeling like this, and being helpless about it. Shelton is not used to his mind doing things he doesn't tell it to.

He hasn't told it to focus on Tory and Ben and Hi, the people he left behind. He hasn't told it to constantly pick and the thought of them, the thought that when he turns around they're going to be right there, where they always are. He hates turning around and knowin each time that something inside him expects to find them there. He hates that they're not, and he can't stop doing this.

Eventually that part of him stops believing that they're there, and that's worse.

He knows what it is. It's the wolf that longs for the pack. He even knows that it's an evolutionary trait, that the wolf who preferred to be alone didn't survive very long, didn't reproduce. He knows he's a slave to his biology but it's never seemed like such a betrayal before now. He feels like the wolf wants to take him over and make him mindless.

And only one thing has ever been able to silence this part of him that seems to be growing stronger and larger in his head. It's his friends, but they're not here anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>ONE WEEK AGO - THE PACK<strong>

They make their way into California slowly, on foot ever since ditching Shelton's stolen car an hour outside the town they ripped apart. They've said all that needs saying, but that doesn't mean they go in silence. Tory only has to whisper _**flare**_ in their heads in order to bring the wolf out, and then nothing has ever felt so great as running with the pack just for the joy of running. Cooper howls first, but they all join in, voices loud and raucous, with no one around to hear. The howling dissovles into laughter so powerful they have to stop and roll around in the farming fields and release it all.

"This was worth it." Tory says when they're all breathing heavily and just lying in the fallow field. She crooks her head to look at each of them in turn. "This is worth anything."

Hi and Ben and Shelton grin madly, all their eyes golden and glowing. Hi whoops again, throwing both arms in the air. The sky is growing dark, the sun staining one half of it with reds and yellows and pinks. Cooper, laying against Tory's side, barks. He's looking farther into the fields.

Tory raises her head again, following his gaze. Coop's gone deathly quiet.

There's a herd of four deer down there, grazing hungrily. They haven't noticed anything wrong; they're upwind and too far away.

Before Tory knows what she's doing, before she can do more than think, deer, hunger grips tightly in her stomach. She's crouching, then, aware that the others are doing the same behind her. She's moving forward so silently she can't hear her own footsteps. It's like a dream. The smell of the deer infuses the air and makes her stomach ache.

She sees the others, moving faster, spreading out, surrounding them. Cooper creeps along on his belly, tail still and straight behind him.

Ben's focused fully on their prey but Tory catches Hi's eyes. He looks confused, a little scared. Shelton, when she sees him, looks terrified.

Everything happens at once. The deer freeze and look around, Cooper sails through the air in a standing leap and lands on the buck's back, Tory finds herself rushing in for the kill and Shelton makes a coughing, choking noise, like he's trying to scream without any air in his lungs. The deer bolt. Cooper's deer falters, legs buckling, but straightens up and shakes him off. Ben's arms close in a vice grip around its neck. Cooper's jaws latch onto its hind leg. Tory bowls into its shoulder and brings them all down. Hi presses both hands to its flank, holding it down.

Shelton's kneeling there, watching them with wide, horrified eyes.

Slowly Tory pulls herself away from the buck. She feels more than sees the others do the same. In moments it thrashes Cooper off its leg and is up and bounding away. Probably unable to believe its luck. Tory watches it go with a sense of something rising within her. Part of her wants to give chase - the chase is such fun - but she knows her pack needs her more right here.

For a long moment no one speaks. None of them can remember how to.

"What was that?" Hi asks hoarsely.

"We were hungry." Tory says, surprised to find her own voice rough. "They were food. Come on, we need to get to - " here she has to pause and consider her next word, because the idea behind it doesn't compute for a moment. Shelter of many not-prey who are not-pack who are good who have food who have shelter. So much of the idea contradicts itself. "We have to get to... town... before dark."

_What's happening to us?_ Tory thinks. _Are we even human anymore?_

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - DESMOND<strong>

Two weeks ago he'd had the thought that Victoria Brennan - Tory, as everyone seemed to know her - would not just vanish. That people like her don't just hide away. But that seems to be what has happened.

He's checked every bus and train going to California in the area, and most of the other ones too, put her and her friends' pictures in every post office across the States, flashed her photo at gas stations, had public radio stations talking about her. Nothing.

All he can do now is wait. He's set all the traps up, and only has to wait for one to be tripped. She doesn't have credit cards to track, she doesn't have relations in California to be staying with - none of them do. He wonders why they've picked California, but it's a dead end. Like they threw a dart at a map and this is where it landed.

He picks the phone up on the first ring, barks out "Ratheson."

"Des, got something interesting. About a week ago a farmer called the cops on some kids messing around in his fields, making noise. Four of them and a dog. Cop showed up, kids were gone. Farmer said they took off on foot toward town."

Desmond grabbs his coat, phone caught between his shoulder and ear as he puts it on. "Why the hell am I only hearing about this now?" He asks, irritated.

"Nobody really thought it was anything special. Just some kids and a dog. We got the report because of that filter I put on the system. It's a small town, probably the report got delayed by the servers."

"A week old trail isn't going to get us very far." Desmond growls and closes the phone. He looks out the window, flicking the collar up on the coat.

"They won't be camping out in this weather, at least," he mutters, looking at the pouring rain.

* * *

><p><strong>TWO HOURS AGO - TORY<strong>

She closes the door behind Cooper softly, not wanting to wake her pack or any of the building's other tennants. They're squatting in an older apartment building, in Greenview, California. So far it seems like no one's noticed the new neighbors who don't pay rent.

Their food money is dangerously close to running out, but Tory can't think of what to do about that. All of her best ideas involve felonies, and they're trying to lay low. In four years she'll be eighteen, and by then everyone else will be too. Then they'll be safe. Until then they can't attract attention. It'll be hard, but as long as they're together she thinks it'll be worth it.

She only has to remember the crushing depression of being _alone_ to know that they're doing the right thing.

Tory's feet take her to the end of the next street over, where she turns right. She stops and waits for Cooper, who has decided that the side of this brick building is a perfect spot to relieve himself. They don't get more than six more steps before he squats again. Eventually she just keeps walking, trusting him to catch up. It takes three more blocks in a roughly circular direction to realize that he's marking the boundaries of their territory. And that she's the one setting them.

They complete the borders around a two-block radius centered on the apartment, and Cooper happily follows her home. Tory wonders if she should feel disturbed by this, but isn't it just a walk? It's not like she was the one peeing on everything - that was Coop. He's the wolfdog. She's human.

But how much? How much is still human? And are they still changing?

Tory notices the darkening sky just as she's turning the knob on the outer door. The sky rumbles with far away thunder. The clouds look as dark as a night without stars. It's going to rain hard.


	2. Jackal at the Gate

Red Iron Symphony

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><p>Chapter Two: Jackal at the Gate<p>

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - DESMOND<strong>

"Those two," the man points to Ben Blue and Hiram Stolowitski. "I remember them. Came in here cool as you please and walked out with half my stock stuffed under their shirts. Only caught it on camera, and then they were long gone. Am I gonna get reimbursed for that?"

Desmond stows the pictures away in his coat, careful not to get them wet. He can always print more but he has to see a few more people yet. "Sorry, nothing I can do about that. What did they take?"

"Deer jerky, mostly, some candy, and they came up to the register and actually paid for one of those little camping stoves. Shoulda known they stuffed their backpacks with food to cook on it, too."

Desmond writes 'stove, canned food, camping?' in his notepad.

"Did you notice anything else?"

"Their coats were brand new - one still had the tags on, from the store down the block. Seemed like they were gearing up for a long trip out into the park. Hafta be crazy to do that in this weather, though."

Desmond agrees. "Thank you for your time. I'm sure these tapes will be of help." He stores the VHS tapes away too, inwardly reflecting that they'd be of help if he didn't know exactly what was going on, and if the graphic quality wasn't so grainy he could barely see their eyes.

But now he has another lead.

The store down the block takes a good ten minutes to get to, and half of those are spent wrestling the door against the wind.

"We're not actually open," the woman inside says apologetically. "But it's so fierce out there I couldn't let you just stand. Do you want to stay in until the worst blows over? Shouldn't be much longer now."

"No, thank you. Actually I'm from the FBI, looking for some people. Do you recognize any of them?" He holds out the photos of the four kids.

"Yes, those two - " she's pointing at Tory and Hiram, "Came in here to buy winter coats."

"What do you remember about them?"  
>"Well, they bought four, and I asked if they were going camping in this weather - some people don't realize how dangerous that is, think it'll be fun. They said no, the heat in their building was just out and they needed the warmth."<p>

"And have you noticed anything gone missing from your store?"

"No more than usual. Sometimes little kids and such just take things and their parents don't notice."

"Anything out of the ordinary? More of something stolen than usual?"

"Well, I guess... the thermal blankets. Five of them are missing from this morning's stock. They're very warm."

"Did you hear them speaking, or say where they were going?"

The woman shakes her head. "No, they were very quiet. Seemed nice enough. I guess not, if they've got you after them."

Desmond writes, 'thermal blankets - heat out - portable stove - food - squatting somewhere? check empty buildings'.

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - THE PACK<strong>

"We can't keep on like this," Tory says, looking at the three faces in front of her. They're arrayed on their sleeping bags in a loose circle. Even Cooper's sitting upright and staring at her, head cocked, although likely he understands about one word out of six. "We're stealing from people who might not be able to take the hit on their wallets, we're leaving tracks. Ideas?"

"The only way to leave no tracks is to go completely off the grid." Shelton says. "That means going out into the mountains, maybe Klamath National Park. But in this weather, with winter on the way... Not our best option, I think."

"What else? Hi?"

"I think I have a relative south of here, but the most we could do is catch a night's sleep there. She'd call my parents on us in an instant."

"We can't go anywhere near southern California," Shelton breaks in, looking inches from a freak out. "Last I saw, my parents were screaming about my running away and making enough noise to wake the dead and force them to join the search, too."

"If we move to a city, I can probably get an under-the-table job somewhere, make us some money." Ben says. "Shelton might look old enough for it, too, if we fix the way he dresses. You and Hi won't work for a few more years yet. No one's gonna believe you're working age."

"Isn't that the whole point of under-the-table? Employing otherwise illegal people?"

"There's the legitimate jobs that are just looking to dodge some taxes, get around dumb 'minors' laws, and pay under minimum wage, and then there's places like you just said, which are just dirty." Ben says. He shrugs. "You learn a lot about this stuff when you start looking for a job in high school."

"You were looking for a job?"

"Thought it might help with the... separation."

Suddenly Shelton laughs. "God, we're pathetic," he says, still laughing, and doesn't say why.

* * *

><p><strong>ONE HOUR AGO - DESMOND<strong>

"Okay, so there's a lot of listings in the area. It's gonna take you a few days' legwork to get through everything."

"The sooner I start the sooner I'm done. Give me the first address."

"I'll do you one better. I'm sending it to your pad now. Luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it."

Desmond closes his phone and pulls out the tablet. When he opens it it's already on the map of the US. He zooms, finds the X where he needs to go first. It's on the edge of town, his starting point. He'll work his way through the whole town slowly, following an efficient route. It's going to be hell.

Desmond looks at the sky outside his car. At least it's stopped pouring rain, finally.

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - COOPER<strong>

He can tell that they're all tired, although he doesn't understand why. Nobody is getting enough to eat, and what they're eating is gross, unfit for consumption. But it's all they have. He's afraid that none of them will have the energy to hunt, when the hunt comes again.

Tory lets him out of the den, tells him to 'be good'. Cooper isn't sure what that really is, but so far it seems to mean that he should try to stay hidden from humans, and not attack them, and not make noise, and run away from humans. Sometimes it means he should stay very still and hidden and wait for Tory to scare off other humans with talking. Sometimes it doesn't really mean anything at all.

Cooper takes a long, leisurely walk around the edges of the territory, marking it again. He notices scents where other dogs have crossed their line, but none have dared mark in the territory at least.

Cooper feels that their territory is woefully small. He thinks they could defend something much larger. But Tory says this is only temporary, they'll be moving with the prey soon.

Well. It was something like that.

Cooper doesn't step over the boundary line. Out there is danger.

Out there is another predator on the hunt.

Cooper stops, smells the air again. That scent. He knows what it is. He can't smell things like Tory can but other predators are dangerous. They have to drive him off, kill his offspring, mark his den. If that doesn't work, they'll have to kill him.

Cooper twists around sharply and takes off running, sharp claws clicking against the pavement. He has to get back to Tory, back to the alpha.

She'll know what to do.

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - DESMOND<strong>

Out of the corner of his eye, Desmond sees a flash of something brown and black and gray. He turns to catch the movement, but it's gone. Still, when he thinks about it he gets the impression of fur, size, and power. A dog.

Or a wolf.

He checks the pad's map system; it's telling him to turn right and double back later to get the buildings on the left. Desmond decides to go left first, because Victoria Brennan has a wolfdog and because he trusts his instincts.

There's only one empty apartment along this street, second floor, door on the right, 2b. He buzzes every button except for that one, until finally he gets an answer.

"What?" The voice snaps.

"Police, I need to get in. There's a chance that dangerous fugitives are hiding in this building." Desmond says.

"Hurry up and get them out, then, stop bothering the public. Jesus, you'd think you'd get a key from the landlord and stop interrupting us regular people."

"Thank you," Desmond tries to keep his tone civil.

The stairs are covered in a dirty green carpet, so he makes no sound as he comes up the stairs. The door to apartment 2b is open. He swears, knowing on a basic level that they had been here and were gone. He's too late.

Still, he's had his training. He's on high alert as he nudges the door open and slides into the room. It smells like wet dog and ravioli. There are empty cans in a corner, and as he looks around he can imagine camping gear splayed out.

The stove would go over there by the wall, where the paint is slightly blackened. The sleeping bags would go in that corner, the one without an outer wall and farthest away from the door. They'd sit around in the center, or maybe drag their sleeping bags out to keep off the cold floor, and they'd eat together there, where there are a few new stains on the linoleum.

He missed them by minutes, he knows. One of the cans is still warm from heating.

How did they get away? He was on the only stairs in the building, unless they used the -

A clatter from the fire escape, all the louder because the window is half-open. Maybe he missed them by only seconds, maybe one or two are still out there, trapped on the squeaky fire escape.

Desmond rushes the window, throws it open, sticks his head out. He brings it back in right away, remembering that it's a very bad idea to rush headfirst into anything. Just in time. A camping cook pan comes sailing through the space where his head would have been, and the sound of a girl swearing loudly from outside.

"Tory Brennan," Desmond guesses. It's not that hard. "Don't move. You're under arrest." He tries to look around the edge of the fire escape, but he knows if she sees his face she'll hit him with the pan.

"You'll have to catch me first," Tory dares him, and all of a sudden he can see her, leaning in, looking at him. Her eyes are gold, although her guardian says they're supposed to be hazel. "Good luck with that."

Then she's gone, backwards over the edge of the fire escape's railing. He jumps feet-first out of the window and in less than a step is at the railing, looking over. Below, she's landed on her feet from a ten foot drop and looks perfectly fine.

"It's over for you," Desmond calls to her.

"Yeah? I think it's just beginning."

"No. I've got evidence on you for assault, kidnapping, escaping police custody, grand theft, shoplifting... the list goes on, and it includes your friends. Your lives are over. You've got criminal records now." He's stretching the truth on most of the evidence. A good lawyer could talk most of the charges off, but if it gets her to come in...

"Under eighteen. Our files will be sealed when we come of age. By then you'll never have enough evidence to pin anything on us."

Desmond abruptly realizes that he's talking to someone who will either become a master criminal and con artist, or a damn good agent. It doesn't scare him as much as it probably should.

What does scare him is the way her eyes gleam golden, almost glowing in the failing alley light as she looks up at him. What scares him is the utter lack of expression on her face. But he's used to dealing with that tiny, primal fear. He draws his gun.

"Stay right there," he says, "or I'll shoot."

Tory only smiles. "No you won't." She turns her back on him, tucks the pan in her hand into the hiking pack over her shoulders, and starts running.

Desmond doesn't shoot. Doesn't even raise his gun.


	3. Dog in the Forest

Red Iron Symphony

* * *

><p>Chapter Three: Dog in the Forest<p>

* * *

><p><strong><strong>TWO DAYS AGO - THE PACK<strong>**

"We go south." Tory says in a tone that allows no argument. "We'll stay south until we hit the bottom of the USA, and we'll keep moving along the border. We'll move up through the central states when we reach them, circle back around the north, hit Washington state. By then winter will be breaking, and we'll take summer in Alaska. We just have to do that until everyone's eighteen or until the hunt for us dies down."

Shelton raises his hand with a question. "And just how are we getting to all these places?"

"We'll walk." Tory says. "We hunt for our food. We camp out. With what we can do, what we are, it'll be easy."

Shelton stands suddenly, kicking up dirt onto his sleeping bag. He turns before any of them can see his face, and stalks off into the forest without a word.

Tory, Ben, and Hi look at each other. "I'll go." Tory says quietly, and follows Shelton.

When she finds him he's crouched by the stream, digging a stick into the ground. He doesn't say anything, although he has to know she's there.

"What's the matter, Shel?" Tory asks finally, crouching next to him.

Shelton snorts. "What's the matter? What's wrong? Everything. Everything about this is wrong! How don't you see it? We're camping out in winter and I'm not cold at all, that's what's wrong." He stabs the ground harshly, leaves the stick there. He stands, and Tory does the same. "What's wrong," he steps closer to Tory. "Is that I don't feel like a human being any more. What's wrong is that every time I flare I feel more and more like a wolf, and it takes more and more to bring me back.

"For God's sake, Tory, we caught a deer and we were going to eat it alive and raw. I saw it in us. We're all changing and the rest of you are just going right along with it, like it's nothing. We're less and less human every day. Where does it stop?"

"Shelton - "

"Do you know it's getting harder to tell the wolf apart from me? Right now there's a part of me that's thinking, calm down, Tory's here, everything's fine. And I don't know anymore if that's because Shelton trusts you or because the wolf trusts the alpha. I don't know what's me and what's not."

Shelton's hands go to his head, pressing his skull. He goes to his knees again, nearly falling there. Tory sets her hand on his head because her knees won't bend and let her join him. Alphas don't kneel for other wolves.

"Shelton," she says, and with a sort of awareness crouches back on her ankles again, still above him. She pulls him into a hug. "I know what parts are you. All of them are. It's inside you, isn't it? Just because you don't like the shape of your nose doesn't mean it's not yours. It's in your DNA. If the wolf isn't you, then what could it be? Don't start thinking that all the feelings you don't like are the wolf's. It'll drive you crazy trying to separate yourself like that."

"How is it so easy for you?"

"It's not. I'm worried too, about how much we'll keep changing. Just, no matter what happens, remember that you'll always have us. The pack is forever. We know you, Shelton. We know you wouldn't do anything to harm us. This is one place you'll always be home. Never forget that. Whatever you go through, we go through it together."

Shelton is silent for a long time, thinking. "I want to test our DNA again," he says abruptly. "I want to see how much it's changed."

Tory blinks. "We're not at Loggerhead anymore, Shel. We can't just sneak into a lab and run some tests."

"I know. It'll be hard. But it might be worth it, if I can see it. If I can know..."

"Okay..." Tory nods slowly, warming up to the idea. "Okay. We'll look up the nearest research center tomorrow, and plan it from there. Now come on, Ben and Hi will be worrying."

* * *

><p><strong><strong>ONE DAY AGO - KIT<strong>**

He answers the phone on the third ring, still toweling his hands dry. "Hello?" he says into the receiver, throwing the towel on to the counter next to the sink.

"Kit," says the voice on the other end of the line. Kit freezes in place, goes cold.

"Tory," he whispers. "Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Tory, I've been so worried - "

"Kit," she says again, and her tone makes him goes silent. "I'm fine. We're all fine. I'm just calling to let you know that we're okay, and we're going to be fine. I know you're worried, I hope this helps."

He can tell, he just knows, that she's going to hang up now. He can't let her do that. "Tory! Wait!"

She pauses, says, "What?" like an annoyed teenager. Kit almost laughs. She's halfway across the country and still the same.

"There was an agent here asking about you. He said you did some things. Is it true?"

"That depends on what he said." Tory says, careful, distant. Maybe she's not the same at all, Kit thinks.

"He said you set Cooper on a cop, broke Hi out of jail, kidnapped a little girl, almost killed a man in a car crash - Tory, what are you doing?"

"I'm surviving the best way I know how. If people would just stop getting in my way, things would be a lot easier."

_Get out of my way_. Kit can imagine her saying that. _Out of my way, or else_, and he can even imagine the _or else_. Maybe Ratheson was right. Maybe he doesn't know this girl.

"Kit," her voice turns gentle, warmer. Before she was guarded from him, but now it's like she's looking him in the eyes and willing to let him see her. "I really do love you, in the best way I can. I don't want to hurt anyone," _but I will if I have to_ "I don't want you to think I'm a bad person."

"I don't think that," Kit murmurs. "But Tory, why run away at all? No matter how much you miss your friends, it can't have been worth this - "

"You still don't understand, though. They are worth everything. Being separate was killing us. There's things you can't know, Kit. I don't blame you for that."

She says she doesn't but he feels like she is. Just by leaving, he thinks she's blaming him a little bit.

"I'm taking too long." Tory says suddenly. "Goodbye, Kit. You might hear more from me later, but don't wait up."

Kit ends the call, looks over at the agent sitting in his living room with a suitcase-sized device on the coffee table. "Was that long enough?" he asks in a hoarse voice.

The agent looks uncomfortable sitting there in the wake of an emotional hurricane. He looks at the device. "Yep. Southern California, payphone. Sending local police now."

* * *

><p><strong>ONE DAY AGO - THE PACK<strong>

Hi's just dialing is parent's number when Cooper starts barking. They all go on alert instantly, looking around for the threat. Plainclothes policemen are closing in slowly on them, already in a loose circle. They're caught.

Tory looks around, assessing escape routes. They've got most of them covered, except...

FLARE, Tory shouts. All of their eyes blaze golden underneath the sunglasses. The police probably have stun guns or tranqs or even regular guns to worry about, they have only their wits and abilities.

"Hands up!" One of the police shouts.

Hi, Ben, and Shelton look at Tory for orders. Slowly she raises her hands above her head. The police move in closer.

"Down on the ground!" The same woman shouts again.

Tory goes down on one knee, but can't make herself go lower. A fundamental part of herself rebels at the thought of submitting, exposing herself to the enemy. She'll die first. The others copy her until she tells them, _okay, lay down, be ready, be fast_.  
>Wolves don't have a word for cunning, for lying with their body language. Tory hopes they understand anyway.<p>

_Hunt_, she thinks to them. _Ambush hunt. Dig a hole and lie in wait_.

The officers move in closer, more of them shouting now, telling her to get down on the ground. They have guns out, down at their sides. Cooper stands at her side, snarling wildly, hackles raised. He looks twice his size with how far his fur is sticking out.

Tory forces him to calm down, tells him to get on his stomach. He rebels, ready to attack the next person to step closer, until she grabs him by the muzzle and forces his head down. Her hand goes back in the air then.

Tory waits as they come closer, circling around. Prey runs. When the prey runs it gets tired and it dies. They will not run.

One more step, Tory thinks. The woman in charge steps forward once more. Tory thinks, _NOW!_

Her pack jumps.

There are eight officers, and five Virals. Far away, they wouldn't have stood a chance. Waiting for them to get closer, close that safe gap, and with each step their advantage decreased, though they don't know it.

Each of them go for a different officer, perfectly synchronized like they've planned it. The first officers fall easily, surprised. Normal humans could not have moved as fast as they did, could not have jumped five feet from a laying position in less than a second. The Virals, when they attack, hit viciously with both hands, knocking the police out with concussions ranging from mild to severe. One unlucky man bleeds from his mouth where Ben's fist came up under his jaw and closed it on his tongue.

Only Tory sees it, but Cooper's cop has his throat torn out. He's still alive, but not for long without treatment.

The remaining three officers get off two shots, collectively. One goes wide, pointed into the air as Tory delivers a rabbit kick from behind with her heel. The other ricochets off the ground, the payphone, and finally lodges itself in Ben's thigh. Hi, hovering close to the ground and audibly growling, smashes at that officer with hands that are like clubs. The man dodges, barely, and doesn't see Shelton behind him.

Shelton grabs his calf, pulls his legs out from under him, and smashes him headfirst into the ground. Cooper has already taken care of the last cop, standing on his chest with one paw on his neck, cutting off most of his air. The man is very still, his eyes wide and trembling.

"Finish him, Coop," Tory orders quietly. Cooper leans more weight on one paw, and the man starts thrashing as he can't breath, but he can't throw the wolfdog off. Finally the movement settles, and Cooper steps off. His open mouth seems to grin at Tory, asking if he was good.

"Good boy, " Tory says. "Now let's run."

* * *

><p><strong>ONE DAY AGO - DESMOND<strong>

"Tell me how the hell four kids and a dog fight off and nearly kill eight fully-trained police officers." Desmond barks into his phone. When he'd first been told, he thought someone was making a joke. It wasn't very funny.

"There was a camera that caught the whole thing, and man, it's like watching something out of an action movie. This case just keeps getting better."

"Well I'm glad you're entertained. Do you know how much shit I'm gonna catch if it gets out that I can't find some kids and their dog? I need to close this thing and fast."

"Easier said than done, my friend. So far it seems like their only goal is to get away. We've got nowhere to track them to, no relatives or friends willing to harbor runaways. This case is dead in the water."

"Not yet. They'll make a move soon. I don't know where it'll be, but it'll happen. This group might be trying to lay low but they're horrible at it. Keep an eye out, and send me that video. I want to see what happened."

* * *

><p><strong>TWO HOURS AGO - DESMOND<strong>

"Got a hit on my filters again. Looks promising. Lab tech at a research center reported four teenagers, three boys, one girl, loitering outside their gates. Said there might have been a dog. Security guard went out to scare 'em off, but they were gone. I also looked into the center, and listen to this: two days ago someone going by the name Tara Black came in and pulled the blueprints for the research center. She and her friend Blake looked at them for a full hour, took phone pictures, and didn't talk the whole time."

Desmond listens with one ear, already in his car and starting it up. "Where's the center?"

"Sending it to your GPS now. What do you think they want with a research center? Looks like all they study there is plant cross-breeding, primarily super-corn. Nothing more valuable than a centrifuge."

"Don't have a clue," Desmond says. "But knowing these guys, it'll be something really original."


	4. Coyote in the Field

Red Iron Symphony

* * *

><p>Chapter Four: Coyote in the Field<p>

* * *

><p><strong>THREE DAYS AGO - THE PACK<strong>

"Hurry up!" Ben says through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying to be gentle about this!" Shelton snaps.

"He's this close to breaking my wrist." Hi says to nobody. "Why do I have to suffer, too?"

"If you don't stop whining, I'm going to knock you out." Tory tells Ben.

Shelton goes, 'ha!' and carefully removes the pliers from Ben's thigh. Caught in them is a mashed up little bullet.

"You know, you're lucky this thing didn't have a lot of force left in it by the time it got to you. I think I was this close to hitting bone while I was digging for it."

"Thanks," Ben says sickly, lying back and letting go of Hi's wrist, which he'd been squeezing.

"You okay?" Tory asks.

"Just hurts. A lot. Never get shot. I don't recommend it." Ben is still breathing heavily.

Cooper comes over, whimpering now that the screaming is done. He whines, nudging at Ben's side and then looking at the wound in his thigh. Ben doesn't have the energy to push him away when he starts washing it with his tongue.

"We're going to be putting off the break-in plans until you're back at full strength." Tory says. "We decided while you were screaming your head off."

"Don't be stupid. I'm fine. It didn't hit anything important, it wasn't even that deep. I can still walk and run."

"You're the one being stupid. This is Shelton's mission, and he doesn't want to risk you or anyone else on it. We're waiting."

"And I say we should just go. I'm the one who's injured. Shouldn't I get a say?"

Tory glares at him. Ben thinks he can see a little gold in her eyes. He takes a figurative step back, though it would have been a lot less figurative if he'd been standing.

"Okay, okay, I guess... a few days? And then you can see how it's healing up, and if it's still not good enough we'll wait some more."

Tory smiles, offers him her hand. He takes it and she pulls him up to standing. He falls over almost immediately and has to lean on her to keep standing. "Yeah, I'm sure you're fine." she says.

"Hey!" Shelton shouts, seeing them. "You, no standing until we get that hole wrapped up."

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - DESMOND<strong>

"What are you waiting for?" he mutters to himself, eyes glued on the screens. He's sitting in the research center's control booth, watching the cameras, like he has been for two days. He takes the night shift, coming in as the sky starts to darken and leaving with dawn to sleep in his motel room. He thinks they're most likely to hit under cover of night.

It occurs to him that he might have been wrong about this one, but he doesn't give that doubt much credit. Something about these kids makes him think that this would fit right in with them. They were living in a scientific community for months at least, have always been around a certain amount of Ph.D.s. As senseless as it seems, it makes sense.

"What could you possibly want here?" Desmond says. His eyes catch movement on the screen, out in the woods. It's gone in moment, flickered out of existence. It was probably nothing.

It might have been his fugitives.

Desmond doesn't even consider it. He grabs his coat and reaches for the door.

* * *

><p><strong>TWO HOURS AGO - THE PACK<strong>

"Good as new. See?" Ben bounces on his feet and then attempts a leap into the air, coming off the leg he'd been shot in. It folds under him halfway through, leaving him to catch his balance on a hand and his other foot. "Well, okay, I've got a way to go. But it hardly hurts anymore."

Tory frowns. "Just because it doesn't hurt doesn't mean you're good to go. Wolves have less pain nerves than humans. We have no idea how bad it is."

Ben unwraps the bandage, showing her that it's only a little smudged with blood, and the hole has almost completely scabbed over. "Look, no blood. It even itches like crazy. That means it's healing." To prove the point, he drags his nails through the skin on either side of the wound and sighs. The skin around it is inflamed red where he's been doing that too often.

"Careful there," Tory says dryly. "I think your leg is almost twitching."

Hi, passing behind Ben, pats him on the head and manages to scratch a little before Ben twists out of range. "Who's a good boy?" Hi gushes loudly. "Not you! Not you!"

"Shut up," Ben says. "See how nice I am when you get shot."

"Nobody's getting shot. Hopefully. Ben, you're clear. Shel, you ready? Got everything you need?" Tory breaks up the fight before it can start.

Shelton holds up five blood slides. "Got us and Cooper right here. I'm gonna have to have one of you guys look at these while I do the DNA. It'll take a long time."

"We'll get in early, just after they leave - when did the last guy go?" Tory turns to Hi, who had stayed for surveillance even after a scientist had seen them. He'd been hidden up a tree, watching for most of the night.

"Security and cleaning crew never really leave, just get replaced in the morning, but the last doctor leaves at eight."

"We'll go in at eight-thirty, then. Ben, you stay close. We'll have to take out security and cleaning before Shelton gets to do his tests, but then we should have free reign until, what, six? Long enough, Shelton?"

Shelton considers it. "Barely."

"Then let's start moving."

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - THE PACK<strong>

"Okay, locked door. How do we deal with this quietly?" Tory asks.

"How else?" Shelton says, moving to the front. "I'm gonna pick it."

They stand guard uneasily as he kneels in front of the door, picks in hand. Minutes pass in agonizing slowness. "Ha! Got it. Let's go."

He pushes the door in, and they all tense, waiting for an alarm. When none sounds, they relax a little.

"What is with security these days?" Hi asks, holding up a hand to Shelton for a high-five.

"I know, it's pitiful." Shelton says, returning it.

"Alright, let's round up the night crew. We'll put 'em all in one building, me and Hi will watch over them. Ben, you'll guard Shelton while he does his thing."

"I don't think so." says Desmond Ratheson, stepping around a corner. His gun is drawn. "Hands up."

Tory raises her hands, frowning at him. "You didn't shoot me last time. Why should I think this time is any different?"

"Last time we were in an alley. Now we're on private property, and you're trespassing. I'm fully within my rights to shoot, although it would be frowned upon."

Tory takes a step forward. The gun doesn't waver. "Stay right there. I saw the CCTV tapes from the phone booth massacre. All of you keep your distance." Ratheson looks around, suddenly less confident. "Where's your dog?" He knows how dangerous the wolfdog can be under Tory's control.

"We left him at home," Tory lies. He's waiting outside, standing guard against new people coming in. She's already calling him to her.

Ratheson nods and removes four pairs of handcuffs from his belt. "Here. Blue, you put these on Devers. Brennan, you put them on Stolowitski. Hands behind your backs. Hurry up!" He throws a pair to Ben and one to Tory.

Ben looks at Tory, who nods, and they do as they are told.

"I'm really getting tired of the handcuffs thing," Hi mutters in Tory's ear as she's snapping them closed.

"No talking! Tighter, Blue, don't try to let him slip out. Now, Brennan, do Blue."

Tory sneers at the man as she catches a third pair. "Gross, is that the kind of thing you get off on? I'm not doing anything for your perversity."

Ratheson goes blank with the utter shock of what she's saying. Then he snorts with laughter and shakes his head. She's got guts, that's for sure.

When Tory's cinched the handcuffs around Ben's wrists, tight enough to cut off blood flow, Ratheson beckons her toward him with the last pair. "Turn around," he says when she gets closer. Tory turns, crossing her wrists behind her. She waits until it's almost too late, until she can feel the cold metal brushing against the raised hair on her arms. Then she leans forward and kicks out behind her, hoping she hasn't misjudged the mark.

She has, just a little. Her heel catches a little on his inner thigh, but the rest lands right where it hurts. Ratheson folds with only a high squeaking noise, eyes rolling up in his head.

Tory wonders if a man can die from that. She had put a lot of force into that kick. The boys are wincing in sympathy, for a moment all animosity put aside for empathetic pain.

Tory picks up the handcuffs Ratheson had dropped and closes them around on wrist, drawing it behind his back carefully. He appears to be out cold, or at least unable to process anything except for pain. Gently, she draws his other arm back and handcuffs them both behind his back. Then she fishes the keys out of his pocket and goes to her pack.

"Hi," she says when she's released them all. "Drag him with us. We still need to get the security guards and cleaning staff secured. These should help," she's grinning as she holds up the handcuffs.

* * *

><p><strong>EIGHT HOURS LATER - THE PACK<strong>

"Got it!" Shelton exclaims, holding up a paper with colored dots all over, like a kid's abstract art. Not half a second later, the building's alarm starts up with a shrill screaming and Tory and Hi come running into the room, Cooper on their heels.

"Move out!" Tory shouts, grabbing Ben and Shelton by the collars of their shirts and pulling them into step behind her. "First wave of scientists is coming in now, and they want to know why their security staff is knocked out on the ground."

"Where are we going?" Ben half-yelps, stepping lightly on his injured leg. Cooper takes up stride beside him, ready to become a living crutch.

"Back door!"

They burst out the back door all at once, spilling in every direction until Tory gets them back together again with one wild howl. Only when they're a mile away and can hear no pursuit or even police sirens does she call them to a halt.

"Okay. I think we're far enough away." Tory says. "For now. But let's keep moving. Shelton, you've still got your results, right? I'd hate to have to do this again."

Shelton holds up the dotted sheet, a little crumpled but still okay. He's grinning. "Got it right here, and some good news. Our DNA hasn't changed since the last time we tested it. We're not still mutating. I guess we're just discovering what's already there. Who knows, humans don't use a whole lot of their brains. Maybe we're just being allowed to use more of it than most. Maybe the only things we get from the wolf come with the flare."

They all grin at that, relieved of a worry they hadn't even really been aware of. Hi starts laughing first, and in a fit of canine joy Cooper jumps up on Tory to lick her face. Ben points and folds in half with laughter at the look on her face of fond disgust. Tory mock-glares at him and growls, riding the high for all it's worth. When he only laughs harder she breaks out into a smile and tackles him.

From there the situation dissolves into helpless giggles and Shelton and Hi being pulled into a wrestling match that rolls all over the forest floor and winds up in an elated, exhausted pile at the base of a copse of trees.

"We're gonna be okay," Tory says softly into the peaceful silence.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I believe it was Shelton who had the ability to pick locks in the books, but I've lent them out and don't have them to use for reference right now. If someone can correct me, I'll fix that. I also hope I'm getting everyone in character, but you can never really be sure.<strong>


	5. Wolf in the Bedroom

Red Iron Symphony

* * *

><p>Chapter Five: Wolf in the Bedroom<p>

* * *

><p><strong>FOUR DAYS AGO - THE PACK<strong>

"Now what do we do?" Hi wants to know.

"Well we've probably still got the FBI on us," Tory says, thinking. "So we need to stay away from them."

"Yeah, but I was thinking more the rest of our lives."

"Same here," Shelton chimes in. "I was going to be a scientist, discover great things. I had something to look forward to, but the way things are now... that's never going to be an option again."

"I wouldn't say never. We might be able to leave the country, start over in another place. If we wait until we're eighteen, we can get passports and even do it legally."  
>"Guys, I haven't told you what that agent Ratheson said to me. He said we were wanted criminals, that they could lock us away for the stuff we had to do to get back together."<p>

Shelton snorts. "He's probably lying. We didn't leave that much evidence behind, even counting video footage. The most they could get us on is breaking Hi out of jail." He suddenly looks less comfortable. "And assaulting officers of the law, I guess. Damn."

"We could always leave illegally, have identities forged." Ben suggests.

"But I wouldn't even know how to start that." Tory says. "We don't know the kind of people who have those connections."

"We kind of do," Hi says. "I mean, think about all the shady people we met while we were investigating that old murder and the treasure. All we have to do is find a crime and start looking into it. And if it was the right kind of crime, like forged money or bonds or something, that'd be even better because those people would for sure know what to do."

Tory considers this. "Criminal connections... I don't know. I don't like it."

"Tory. We're criminals right now."

"Well, yeah, but we haven't killed anybody."

"And they don't have to have killed anybody either. There are white-collar criminals, you know. We've just been meeting the wrong kind."

"Yes, we really must be more careful about the brand of psycho we associate with." Ben says dryly.

"So we're really gonna do this?" Shelton asks, making sure. "Sneak into another country?"

Tory looks around at their faces. "Yeah," she says slowly. "I think we are."

* * *

><p><strong>FOUR DAYS AGO - DESMOND<strong>

He hates the hospital. He also hates Tory Brennan, for putting him here. He can barely shift his legs without cringing in pain, and the entire area she'd kicked is a dark purple bruise. The doctors had originally thought he'd been kicked by a horse, or run over by one.

Desmond has another few days in here, and then he's going to get back to hunting that girl and her friends with a vengeance.

Eyes wandering from the crap daytime television, Desmond sees a man in a suit, very official, talking to a doctor. The doctor looks down at his chart, frowns at it, and looks back up at the suit. He glances all around, and then points to Desmond's room. The suit nods and presumably thanks the man. Desmond is by this point burning with curiosity, which is a nice change from burning with pain.

"Desmond Ratheson, I assume?" The suit asks.

"That's me. Are you from the Bureau?" If they're trying to move him off this case...

The suit smiles. "Not quite. I'm John Smith." he holds out a hand.

Desmond, automatically shaking it, has gone a little numb. That fades fast, replaced by anger. "CIA. What do you guys want with me?"

Smith smiles again. "Not you, really, just the case you're working on. Victoria Brennan, Hiram Stolowitski, Benjamin Blue, Shelton Devers. Tell me about them."

"Can't you just look at the case files?" Desmond asks, not willing to give this man even one inch easily.

"I already have. But I know that all good agents keep at least part of the investigation in their heads, and you, Agent Ratheson, are very good."

"Flattery gets you nowhere." Desmond returns. "What do you want to know?"

He doesn't ask if Smith has clearance, or to see a badge. If the CIA doesn't get what he wants here he'll get it another way, and CIA don't carry badges.

"Tell me all about Tory Brennan and her friends. Not their background, not what they've done. I know all that already. I want to know what you think of them. You've met them twice now. You must have some opinions."

Thing is, Desmond does have his thoughts. But they're nothing he's ever gonna share. He's never gonna say, _I don't think they're human_. The words, _Her eyes were golden_, are never going to leave his mouth.

"They're dangerous," he says instead. "More than you'd think. I think they're capable of anything. I mean, most people are, but it would take a lot less to push them over the edge than a normal person."

Smith smiles again. "Okay. And do you think they could be controlled?"

"What?"

"Do you think that with the proper motivations and restrictions, these four could follow instructions."

Desmond finds himself highly disturbed by the mere suggestion. He thinks of Tory Brennan working for someone else, following orders. No. She'd choke on the words _yes, sir_, and die first.

Speaking completely honestly, he says, "No. You couldn't control that..." _That kind of wildness_, he wants to say.

(It took hundreds of years and specialized breeding to tame the wolf, and then it became the dog. It wasn't a wolf anymore.)

"You'd destroy it." he says.

Smith frowns for the first time. "I had hoped you would say otherwise. No matter. Thank you for your input, Agent Ratheson." He stands and is gone before Desmond has time to say another word.

The television mutters in the background as Desmond lays back in the hospital bed and wonders, tiredly, what just happened.

* * *

><p><strong>THREE DAYS AGO - TORY<strong>

It takes two quick internet searches in a public library to find the closest hospital to the research center. Tory writes down the name of the nearest three, and sets out alone. She leaves the rest of her pack denned down in another empty apartment, although this one is heated at least. She tells them she'll be fine.

She doesn't tell them where she's going.

At the second hospital, the nurse at the front desk looks up the name Ratheson and comes up with a room number. Tory thanks her and hefts the massive pot of flowers higher on her hip. She'd gotten them from a cemetery, and they're the perfect cover for hospital visits. As an added bonus, if she puts the pot between her face and the cameras the leaves are dense enough to hide her face.

Ratheson's room is on the third floor, at the very end of the hall. She peeks in the glass, sees him lying in the bed with his eyes on the television. Tory looks around the hallway to make sure she isn't being watched and goes in flowers-first.

"Who're these from?" Ratheson asks. He can't see Tory behind the flowers yet. When she moves them, his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. He recovers fast. "Here to finish the job?"

Tory smiles. She decides she likes him. "Not quite. I'm sorry for what I did. We were both just doing what we had to. That doesn't mean we need to be enemies."

In fact, she thinks that it's like wolf territories. In bad times, even rival packs join together for survival.

"That's actually exactly what it means," Desmond says, shifting higher in his bed, ready to jump out.

"Don't get up on my account." Tory says, smiling coldly. She sets the flowers on a counter and takes a seat in the chair at the foot of the bed. "I'm just here to make sure you're okay. I've never killed anyone. I wanted to make sure you weren't the first."

"You came close enough," Desmond mutters. He doesn't think she'll be able to hear that, but she laughs.

"If you would just stop trying to catch us," Tory says, "This sort of thing wouldn't happen."

Desmond looks at her for a long moment, considering. She doesn't look like she's starving. She looks healthy - maybe her clothes are a little rumpled, and her hair has seen better days as far as knots go, but she doesn't look like a kid who's been sleeping out in the cold. She certainly doesn't look like a killer. She's still just a kid.

That's why he says, "I'm not on your case anymore."

Her eyes sharpen then, focusing entirely on him. "Explain." she orders.

Desmond barely contains a shiver. It's like looking into the eyes of a predator. "Your case was taken away from the FBI. It got pushed up to higher levels. What did you guys do in that research center, that got the CIA's attention?"

Tory growls, and it doesn't sound like a human imitating an animal sound. It could have come from the throat of a dog. "What does it mean?" she asks him.

"It means that whoever's hunting you now has even more resources, and none of the laws apply to them. It means you're an enemy of the United States. It means if you get caught, you don't go to prison, you don't see your parents again. You vanish into a deep dark hole and never see daylight again."

Tory's eyes close as she thinks. "That can't happen."

"If you turn yourselves into my custody, I can maybe protect you from that." Desmond says, not really believing that'll ever happen.

"I'll keep it in mind, but it's a last resort." Tory smiles a little as she says it. "Why tell me this?"

Desmond meets her eyes so she can see the truth there. "Because I know you're not bad kids. I know you don't deserve this, no matter what you've done. And I have faith that you won't go bad."

"Thank you," Tory says, and Desmond can tell how much she means it. She stands, goes to leave, and Desmond's eyes catch on the flowers. Ages and ages ago, he'd had a girlfriend who ran a flower shop.

"Hey," he calls her attention again. "You brought me funeral flowers."

Tory gives him that smile again and leaves.

* * *

><p><strong>NOW - THE PACK<strong>

"Jobs, first," Tory says. "All of us. When we've got enough money, we're going to buy a laptop. With that we'll hack the police records, find someone likely to have the connections we need, contact them, make enough to buy the passports, and then... the world opens up for us."

They grin at her. Tory puts her hand between them and they stack both hands together. At the end, even Cooper puts a paw on top. Tory throws their hands in the air, shouting, "Virals!"

"We're in Los Angeles!" Tory exclaims. "The City of Angels! This is where we begin."

* * *

><p><strong>FOUR DAYS AGO<strong>

John Smith makes his way out of the hospital, tugging at his hat around corners and ducking his head, artfully avoiding showing his face to every single camera and making it look natural. When he steps out the doors into the parking garage, he walks straight forward until a silver sedan rolls to a stop in front of him. Without looking at the driver, he climbs in the back.

There's a black leather briefcase already inside. When he hefts it up into his lap he can tell by the weight alone that it's lined with lead.

He enters the combination twice - if he had done it only once, there would have been a small, contained blast inside the briefcase, obliterating the contents. Inside, there is a manila folder and three glass blood slides.

He glances briefly at the blood slides, opens the folder and takes out the first page. It has colored dots up and down in rows, and extends onto two more sheets. He flips to the next page of the packet.

On top of this page, stapled on, is a picture of young girl. Fourteen years old, smiling.

He sets the folder beside him for the moment, and picks up the blood slides one at a time, holding them close to make out the labels.

_Wolf_, the first one says.

_Human_, says the second slide.

_Subject 1 - TB_, says the third slide.

He goes back to the folder. Underneath the girl's photo, he finds her name.

It says, **VICTORIA BRENNAN**.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: How evil am I? And now this one is complete. The next in this trilogy, if I ever get around to writing it, will be titled White Steel Serenity. If anyone can tell me the three themes in these titles (Black Gold Legacy, Red Iron Symphony, and White Steel Serenity) they'll get to read the chapters a full day before I post them. Here's a hint: There's one theme per word, and the first one isn't 'they're all colors!'. In fact, the first theme is the hardest.<strong>


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